F is for Conspiracy
by nieseryjna
Summary: Scrabble is not only about letters and words.


**Spoilers:** season 1 and season 2

**A/N:** Written for Aragarna who gave me this crazy idea.

**Beta Credit:** Goes always to mam711. All remaining errors are mine.

**Disclaimer:** White Collar belongs to Jeff Eastin, USA Network and FOX. Just borrowing it for fun.

**F is for Conspiracy**

Playing Scrabble with Mozzie was quite an entertaining endeavor. They'd stopped playing by the official rules long ago; no one could really match Moz when he started using all possible words that normal people didn't know existed. They played as often as possible; cheating, of course, keeping their skills as sharp as possible.

Sometimes they changed the rules to use only art-related words, or sometimes only the cons they knew. Or not, depending who was cheating more.

It was another of those evenings when the day had been spent on mind-numbing mortgage cases, and Neal really needed something to get his mind going, so the sight of Mozzie drinking another of his wines wouldn't be so bad.

"How was Suit Central? Did you find something for me, some files with secrets, maybe?" Moz shot him an interested look before taking a big sip of wine.

Neal just sighed. "Hey, Moz."

"Oh I see, the mind control is starting to work. Told you not to trust these government types." Moz stood up and took a fresh glass, poured wine and handed it to Neal.

Neal ignored him for a moment, enjoying the taste and finally starting to relax. Who would guess that boredom was stressful. Well, it was for him.

"Thanks, Moz. It was just another mortgage fraud case, too boring for me." Taking off his jacket and tie, he started to open his shirt.

"Conman's Scrabble?" Mozzie smiled. "I'll get the pieces while you change."

It took some time for Neal to relax completely—two more glasses of wine, a fast dinner of pasta with pesto and more than half the game.

They were down to the last pieces, with only few of them still to be picked, when the inevitable happened.

"Neal, do you have a letter 'f'?"

"Like I would tell you."

Mozzie's brows furrowed. "If you don't, it really doesn't change anything, because there are only a few letters left, and if you had an F you would already have put it down; there were a few opportunities."

"Are you counting Scrabble pieces, Mozzie?"

"Of course I am. The great players always count to win."

"You're lucky we're not in a casino and you just didn't admit to counting cards in Blackjack."

"Please, counting cards in Blackjack is child's play. This is serious!"

Neal chuckled; of course Mozzie would consider counting cards child's play. He had the ultimate plus of perfect recall; he just knew every possible combination.

"No, I don't have a letter 'f'," he finally admitted.

"Hmm, then you are in trouble, my friend." Moz started to put his tiles down. "Picasso". Getting triple word bonus and winning the game.

"Not really …" he started to say, but then noticed what Mozzie had seen much earlier. He had almost all the letters to get "forgery" down. G and Y were already waiting on the board, but he was missing an F.

"Moz, what did you do with the second 'f'?

"Me? Nothing; the question is, what happened to it?"

That was an excellent question that Neal had no answer for that evening.

Luckily on the next day they got an interesting case and any thoughts of missing Scrabble pieces fled from his mind.

Till he saw Alex again. That damn Scrabble piece must have been what Peter took to run her prints when he saw her the first time. He rubbed his cheek absentmindedly; the slap hurt in memory but he really couldn't blame her. Years ago, if someone who he almost trusted had been working with the FBI, and caused his prints to be checked, he would have been furious too.

He didn't have a chance to ask about the piece before hell broke loose and Kate died in the explosion. For a while he was using other distractions than Scrabble to get his mind off things.

But then Mozzie's birthday was coming, at least the one that he used as Dante Haversham, and he started to think about a perfect present.

"Morning, Peter," he greeted his partner on the beautiful sunny morning, when he joined him and June on the terrace.

"Good morning, June, Neal." Peter smiled; it was one of those days he didn't mind a slow start, excellent coffee and some paperwork to finish another successful case for Burke and Caffrey. June poured him a coffee and excused herself.

"Do you still have that Scrabble tile you took to run Alex's prints?" Neal asked between sips of his coffee, startling Peter and causing him to almost spill his coffee.

"What?" That was something he'd almost forgotten, it was so long ago.

"The piece you took to run Alex's prints, when you first met her. During the jade elephants case."

Peter thought for a moment; actually he wasn't sure—the piece wasn't evidence per se; it wasn't logged anywhere—he'd just asked Jones to run it.

"I gave it to Jones to run the check. Why are you asking?" It wasn't like he ever saw Neal play Scrabble at all.

"You know that playing Scrabble without all the letters doesn't really make sense. Besides, as much as I find it more fun when it's challenging, with 'f' missing there are only two of them, and Mozzie's birthday is coming."

Peter's head shot up so fast up to look at Neal with a piercing stare that Neal worried for a moment for the agent's spine.

"Does Moz know you're spilling his secrets to a Suit?" Peter smirked.

"Of course not, Suit." Neal answered with a con-man's smile and in the same tone that Mozzie would. "It's Haversham's birthday, which you already know as you ran the name as soon as you met him." Neal didn't beat around the bush. He knew exactly how Peter would behave and ensured, even when they met too soon, that Moz had some nice identity to hide behind in case of meeting the Suits.

"Do you plan to give him a used Scrabble set as a gift?"

"Nope, something much better. How about you help me plant a bug in that missing piece? I'll get him some gadget as a decoy gift."

Peter stared at Neal for a long moment in disbelief before laughing out loud. Only Neal and Mozzie would think planting a bug in a Scrabble piece to be a perfect birthday gift for a paranoid con man.

It took some work; the little wooden piece wasn't really a perfect size to plant a bug. Also Neal couldn't do it at his rooms at June's as Moz was not only a regular there, he also ran bug scans and snooped where he shouldn't. Not that Neal minded much, but it was inconvenient when there was something he had to keep away from him. So the main work was done at the FBI offices; he dedicated part of his lunch hour and a few evenings to get things done, but with a few days to spare, the perfect gift for Mozzie was done.

There were only a few other things to be set up. Even when he worked on the bug in the FBI offices, Neal made sure that they wouldn't be able to hijack the signal to listen to him and Mozzie for real. This was just a highly sophisticated working decoy to have some fun. So he also used his phone as the receiver, and secured another gift - a nice bottle of wine that Mozzie loved.

When the day finally came, Neal was glad that not only was it the weekend but also it seemed that the criminal world had taken a day or two off. That left him with boring paperwork, but also high hope that maybe Mozzie would stop by for wine and Scrabble again.

Just as he hoped, Neal found Moz at his own table drinking the bottle he'd bought especially for the occasion. They never did anything for their birthdays; it wasn't something either of them really found to be joyous about. Mozzie had been abandoned by his parents, and Neal had run away, so there was really not much to celebrate. But it didn't stop either of them from doing something the other would enjoy.

"Ah, mon frere, I see that the world of the government is again boring?"

"Definitely, paperwork was invented to ensure people are too bored to do anything else. What do you say we play some Scrabble?"

"Paperwork was invented to ensure compliance of the masses." Mozzie was on the edge of a typical conspiracy rant. Neal didn't mind; it was actually what he needed Mozzie to do.

"Probably, but then without paperwork we wouldn't find so much information either for our cons or for the investigations." This time Neal just put his jacket on the chair and allowed Mozzie to set out the game, as he got a glass for himself and poured the wine.

It was indeed an excellent one; he hid a smirk. Using an ever-useful hand trick, he dropped the bugged tile into the bag with the others. It took a surprisingly long time for Moz to get the tile.

It was his slightly concerned voice that brought Neal out of his head. "Neal?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you have a quote?"

This time they were playing a strange version of quote off: the rules were that the points were collected from your opponent—when Neal put down his word, Mozzie had to come up with a quote containing it; if he did then he got the points from Neal's letters; if he didn't, Neal got them; whoever got the most points of course won. Neal was deep in thought trying to find a quote for "tsk" that Mozzie had put on the board two minutes before, because they even had a time limit on the responses.

He shook his head.

Mozzie beamed and added the points to his own count. Then started to get new tiles. Neal observed him, secretly hoping he would get the F tile this time. The other one was already on the board when he put it in the bag.

Mozzie was putting the third letter on his letter stand when he froze. His brows came together, and he took his glasses off and cleaned with the hem of his shirt. Putting them on again, he stared on the stand with suspicion.

Neal busied himself with putting his word down.

"Neal."

"Yeah?"

"Where did you get the second F letter tile from?"

Neal smiled in his mind, careful not to let the smile out. Conning Mozzie wasn't so easy, even for the world's best con man.

"Peter took it to get Alex's prints, so I got it back," he answered in the same tone he'd been using the whole evening.

Mozzie's eyes narrowed.

"Suit had the tile the whole time?"

"Not really; it was in the lab to get the prints, and then Jones had it."

"Junior Suit. That doesn't change the fact that the tile we are playing with was in the hands of Suits! How could you?"

"How could I what? Moz, it's just a Scrabble tile; besides, as I remember you complained we were missing the letter."

"Oh, I did, but I would get by without it if I knew it had been held hostage by the Suits. You never know what they could have done to it."

"Moz, really? What could they do to it that already wasn't done. It's just a wooden piece with a painted letter on it. All they did was get Alex's print from it." Not that Neal was happy with mentioning that, but it was a perfect distraction. Mozzie would jump on that and produce another theory anyway.

"They could get my prints too!"

"You were around before and they didn't, so why now?"

"I'm very careful where I leave my prints, unlike some." He shot a meaningful glare at Neal, not that it changed anything; mistakes happen, and it wasn't like he'd left prints on the bond he was sentenced over.

"It doesn't really matter now, does it?" He tried for an angry tone, but internally he was laughing, Mozzie was so predictable sometimes; he better keep that to himself or his paranoid friend would do something to prove him wrong.

"Not for you, maybe." Mozzie took a last sip of his wine, emptying his glass. Neal filled it again without prompting.

"Right. I'm sorry, Moz, but really, what do you expect? I really don't think that Peter thinks like that anymore. He's not even trying to catch you."

"It's probably just Suit's game to draw your attention somewhere else, and mine too! They are sneaky like that.… What if they put a bug in the tile! To listen to us!?"

Neal's eyes almost gave him away, flashing with interest and humor. Good that Mozzie took it as him being interested in the concept.

"Ha! See, you were thinking about it too! I knew I should make the bug check more regular. I'll leave some equipment around to let you check it for yourself."

"That would be useful." And it really would, not that he was as paranoid as Moz, but having something to check for bugs around was always useful. Especially after their predicament with Mentor, it would be good to have something at hand, and not to have to call Mozzie over with the full suitcase to make a check at the Burkes.

"I'll get to it right away." This was something that surprised Neal. Mozzie went to his coat hanging by the door and started searching for something in the million of pockets, mostly hidden.

"Moz, it's not really necessary to do it right away. Let's finish the game; you can do it tomorrow. And it's your move now." It wasn't that Neal really wanted to continue playing, but he had a role to play in this setting.

"No, no, it has to be done right away; you never know how much the Suits already heard.…" His hand stilled and he made a quick turn towards Neal, his eyes wide with worry.

"What did they hear already?! Neal, how long have you had that piece back?" That was something Neal hadn't predicted, especially since they did try not to discuss many sensitive topics in the apartment. Not with Mozzie's paranoia and the bug sweeps, but lately with Neal obsessed with getting Fowler, and Mozzie slipping in the checks, they did discuss things, feeling safe.

"Just since yesterday," he finally answered, after a quick mental check of what they'd discussed lately and when exactly.

"Oh." Mozzie's nerves calmed a little; there was nothing important that they'd discussed in the last two days.

Neal was actually happy that he'd made sure that the bug was secured against hijacking; otherwise that conversation would have made him much more nervous. He knew Peter would never bug his apartment, but he didn't know that about Fowler and whoever was behind the Mentor operation. Everything was possible after they bugged Peter's house.

"You better get your gear and make a sweep then. I don't think that Peter would bug my apartment, but I can't say the same about Fowler and the people he was working for." This time Neal was serious.

"I'll get the rest of the equipment tomorrow morning, but now let me find the mini sweeper." Mozzie got back to patting of his coat; when he didn't find what he was looking for, he moved to his bag. Finally with a loud exclamation he pulled out a small black box with a switch and a LED light on it. The portable sweeper was yet another Russian surplus special buy.

He got back to the table, switching the device on and waving it first by Neal's tiles, then by the ones already on the board, by the bag and finally by his own stand. Everywhere the light stayed green till it got to the F tile Moz had drawn last. The light changed to red and a loud, ear-piercing noise was emitted. Neal jumped, surprised; he didn't expect the sound to be so loud. Mozzie moved the device back and forth quickly two more times before jumping up, excitement on his face.

"Ha! This is what I'm talking about, Neal! See, you can't trust the Suits; you never know what they'll put in whatever they give you."

"I would never have suspected you would be _glad_ they bugged me.…" This time he couldn't contain a smile.

"I.…" Unusually for him, Mozzie shuddered. Yes, he was happy that he found the bug, but only because that proved his theory that Suits would always try to bug them. "Just because I'm right. You should count yourself lucky I refrained from saying 'I told you so.' And you never know what else the Suits have bugged." He eyed Neal's ankle suspiciously. "Show me your anklet."

"Come on, Moz, don't you thing that's a little too much. You checked it after they put it on me."

"And they removed it few times between then and now. You'd never know that they didn't bug it in the meantime. Now get your foot up so I can check it too."

Neal wasn't so sure; the anklet was sending a signal out—the GPS reporting his position—but he wasn't sure if the Russian surplus bug sweeper would see the difference; a signal going out was a signal going out. And if the device triggered, he was sure Mozzie would panic and try to get the anklet into pieces.

With a sigh Neal put his foot on the chair to make it easier for Mozzie to get to the device on his ankle. The sleek black plastic's set of lights was currently green. He really didn't want the wrath of the Marshals on his head if Moz suddenly started to try to pull it apart, not that it wouldn't be useful to be able to get out of the anklet on a whim, but he didn't need trouble right now. He knew that if he needed to get out of it he could—he'd done it before without a problem—even with Peter on his back he knew he would be able to just cut it and run. But not today.

Mozzie eagerly started to sweep the device over the anklet and Neal felt his breath catch. The sweeper made some noise but it wasn't the same piercing sound like before and the color of the indicator changed only to orange and not to red as before. He could hear his friend murmur to himself when he repeated the sweep once again.

"So? What does the orange light mean?" he decided to ask, slowly getting his breath again.

"It's just showing that the GPS is working fine, unfortunately." Neal shrugged, smiling slightly. They knew that the GPS was working fine, otherwise Peter and the Marshals would be on his back. "But it's also showing there are no listening devices. For now."

"Thanks, Moz." His friend's attention was once again back on the bugged F tile he moved away from the others, and the annoying piercing sound was now a constant whining.

Neal scowled. "Does it have to be so loud and annoying?" He almost had to shout to make himself be heard.

"It's masking what we're taking about; we still don't know who is listening." Now they both were shouting.

"We're not talking; it's too loud for that!" He was wondering how long it would take Mozzie to take it apart; he was quite proud of himself for setting this up.

Moz pushed a switch off, and the device finally fell silent. There was a ringing in his ears for a moment, and everything felt unnaturally silent. Good that June was away and wouldn't come to check what the ruckus was.

"Now what?" Neal asked after the ringing in his ears stopped and he was almost sure that he was talking normally and not shouting.

Mozzie put a finger to his lips. "Shhhh."

"Really, does it really matter now?"

"Of course it does; they know we know," Mozzie answered, whispering, moving as far as he dared from the dreaded Scrabble tile.

"Don't you think we should have been pretending not to find it in the first place?" Neal was actually surprised that they didn't do that from the get go; they were losing their edge!

Mozzie put his sweeper on the tile, and went to rummage around his bag once again. Neal just sighed and poured both of them more wine; it seemed that Mozzie was having a great time, with the wine at least. He just hoped he would be happy with the distraction after he pulled apart his tile.

When his friend sat back down he'd actually brought his whole bag, hanging it on the chair and getting out two sets of tools. One was a small set of watchmaker's screwdrivers and the other had several pieces of odds and ends that could be anything. Some Neal recognized as those he'd used in the past, for picking locks or working on details in his forgeries.

It was actually a lot of fun, observing his friend trying to play around and examine the tile. Moz had a gem loupe in one eye, his glasses pushed to his forehead, which was right now creased with a wrinkle.

He smiled; it was what both of them needed, a distraction.

"Aha!" Moz took one of the small screwdrivers and with precision put it in the hairline fracture that was there, to pry apart the two pieces of wood. With clips he pulled on one of them, and used leverage to do it in easiest way, without destroying anything.

This was something he and Moz had done a lot before he went to prison—analyzing how things worked, creating beautiful and sometimes very complicated forgeries before stealing and replacing the originals. He always loved the paintings, but he knew that Mozzie had the most fun with Faberge eggs, the technical element allowing him to shine, which he couldn't with painted forgeries.

When the pieces came apart and the little but sophisticated insides showed, Mozzie whistled with admiration. Neal was happy Peter had approved for the tech department to give him some used elements of their own bugs and Jones helped him to create something completely new. He knew his way around electronics, but some things were out of his reach; of course he could learn, but there wasn't enough time for everything. So Jones' help in creating the little bug, which was now nested in the small wooden frame Moz had just opened, was invaluable.

"What is that?" he asked to just keep up appearances; besides, he was proud of his work, as usual, and he leaned forward to take another look.

The elements were put together to actually resemble in shape a bug, a scarab in miniature. As it didn't have to put out the signal for long, in time or distance, the battery was really little; the miniature transmitter and necessary elements to keep it together and working were truly a work of art.

"Neal?" He didn't notice Mozzie redirecting his gaze from the device to himself, too busy with admiring his own work.

"Moz?" There was something in his eyes, not worry but the wrinkle on his forehead had changed. Neal called it his thinking wrinkle.

"What did you do?"

"What? You're examining a bug that you think Peter put in the Scrabble tile and you ask me what I did?"

"The Suit sometimes does strange things to keep you out of trouble…."

Neal shot a meaningful look at the device lying between them.

"It's deactivated." Moz pushed the tile with his finger.

"So why are you asking if I did something; you know about everything I do, Moz. I don't think he would bug me, even to keep me safe."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure." But in reality Moz had just planted a seed of doubt; what if he didn't know where the bug came from, what if Peter bugged him for real one day? No, he shook his head.

"Maybe it's part of a big government conspiracy to keep an eye on all citizens," Mozzie continued, not frazzled at all, back on his conspiracies wagon. "Do you know how many millions of Scrabble copies were sold last year? Millions, it's millions of households that are under another form of surveillance by Big Brother!"

Now Mozzie was in his element. "You think that every set of Scrabble was bugged? Moz, come on, you would found the bug earlier if that were true." Neal didn't want to burst his friend's bubble, but he had to keep up the role of skeptic.

His friend stopped the murmured rant he was doing while circling the table and gesturing widely with his hands. He pierced Neal with a suspicious glare, and no, it wasn't the glare of _you never understand; _it was again the _what have you done, Neal?_

Neal of course put his best innocent face on before asking "What?" in that full-of-wonder and believable tone that made everyone question how they could ever suspect the young innocent man.

This time Moz moved slowly, sitting back on his chair and taking another close look at the bug. Using the screwdriver, he poked and prodded, pulling some of the elements apart till he disassembled it completely.

His eyes narrowed as he looked at Neal again. "Neal, you really shouldn't have signed _this_." But his tone was light and a moment later his face was brightened by a smile.

Neal smiled in response. "Oh, I really should have. Happy Birthday, Moz."

That startled Moz, but just for a second, he smiled again. "Shouldn't that be 'Happy Birthday, Dante'?"

They laughed, Neal's hand waving the Dante-Moz topic away; it really didn't matter.

"So who was listening? June? Suit? Mrs. Suit?" Moz was really happy about his, or rather Dante's, birthday present, and really whoever was listening he hoped had had the same fun as he had.

Instead of answering, Neal took his phone out, and called up the application, putting the last minutes of the bug recording on play. The whining sound played again, and he grimaced, stopping it and deleting the recording.

Mozzie laughed, delighted, and started to put everything back together.

"That was genius, man. Now who are we going to bug?"

Neal decided not to destroy Mozzie's evening by saying no one was listening but him, so he just poured more wine.

**The End**


End file.
